


A recollection of Prince Caspian (Edmund Pevensie X Reader)

by S0N9_M1N0 (ixiiii)



Series: Edmund Pevensie X Caspian's sister!Reader [1]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-02 20:27:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17270576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixiiii/pseuds/S0N9_M1N0
Summary: That fateful night when a baby boy is born, you and your brother are forced to split ways. Everybody and everything you have ever known is now pitted against you, determined to stop you... but you know, you just know that you can win through this...Because you have Edmund.





	1. Chapter 1

The first sensation you felt when you woke up was a hand upon your mouth.

"Come, Princess." You didn't need to look up to know it was Doctor Cornelius.

Another figure is standing with him. "Cas? What's wrong?"

"Your aunt has given birth...to a son."

You processed his words before groaning and pushed yourself off the bed, grabbing your boots and hastily putting them on. "I was hoping that wouldn't happen."

"This is no time for jesting words, my princess."

"I'm not jesting!" You hissed as you laced your boots.

Footsteps. Heavily armed, perhaps about five to seven men.

Caspian climbed into your closet (which was quite a new experience for you) and Doctor Cornelius followed, struggling to climb fully into it. "Hurry, princess!"

It was much closer. About a foot away.

"I won't make it. Go!" You closed the closet door and soundlessly moved to the other side of the room, as to avoid suspicion.

Your heart was pounding. What if they killed you? What if-

"Ah, princess."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you stood with your arms crossed. "What would you want in the middle of the night, General Gazelle?"

"Glozelle." He automatically corrected, although he knew it was helpless- you had started calling that ever since you had heard his name. "Are you perhaps aiding your brother in the affairs of anything?"

"I see your crossbows. I'm not stupid, you know." You bluntly replied. You knew it could aggravate him, but if your guess was correct, the king would want you alive. At least, until your execution.

Out of the window, you could see fireworks shooting up. "And a new baby boy. You decide to come visit my room this exact day. What. A. Coincidence."

"Princess..." He gestured towards the door. "I am afraid you will have to come with us." He said, ignoring your words.

"So I can get thrown into a river? No thank you." You glanced towards the door. You had to engage them as much as you can, so that Caspian could have time to run.

Yet you couldn't use your powers, because goddamn it no one could find out.

Grozelle narrowed his eyes. "Get her, but don't harm her."

You grinned.

The guards dropped their crossbows, drawing their swords and rushing towards you. You dodged the swing of the first one and hooked his foot with yours, kicking in his ankle, to make him stumble. He did so and you ducked the second soldier's swing before seeing Grozelle dart towards the door. You couldn't let him go- you had to protect your brother.

"Hey, Gazelle!" You shouted and dived between the two soldiers, your hand closing around the familiar object hidden in your pillow, and threw the dagger at him, hoping to Aslan that he would turn back.

And so he did.

His pride hurt and a slash on his cheek, he picked up one of the crossbows and shot at you. You dodged both the dart and the sword in front of you, a  _thunk_ as the dart hit the man behind you. He yowled in pain before slumping to the ground, and you froze as you felt a sword on your neck.

_I hope I've bought him enough time._

"Stand down." The soldier grunted, and you obeyed, dropping your hands to your sides but smirking. You had known this would be a lost fight. Your intentions had not been to fight and win, but merely to delay Grozelle.

And he just found out.

Cursing, the man rushed towards the door with a "subdue her!" and ran downstairs, no doubt to take a horse. You felt a rush of pain upon your temple, then blackness crept upon your vision and all was still.


	2. Chapter 2

"Your room, my princess." The guard mocked as he threw you into the cell. "I'm sorry we don't have any _royal_ food for you, just those." He nodded towards the stale bread and dirty water.

You hit the ground hard, groaning as the rocks scraped your palms. "Don't even know what I did to him. Just fu-"

"Blimey, you look familiar." A disembodied voice chuckled.

You threw up your hands. "Now my own conscience is starting to talk to me. Is it because of the hands? Just because they're cut and scraped doesn't mean-"

"You're not talking to yourself." The voice continued. You could now pinpoint where the person was, in the corner of the cell. If you concentrated. "Telmarine."

"Aren't you-" You paused as a dwarf stepped out of the shadows. "Oh, little guy."

He scowled. "Do _not_ call me a little guy."

"Narnian, aren't you?"

"Well," He looked quite surprised. "How would a Telmarine know about Narnians? Especially old Narnians?"

"My professor was one, I'm pretty sure." Shrugging. "A dwarf. Dwarves can't exactly tell stories about themselves without anyone else realizing they're one themselves."

You kept the other fact in.

_Wait until I'm sure this guy can be trusted, (Y/N)._

You started a conversation. "What did you mean by saying I looked familiar."

"That Telmarine on the horse." He squinted his eyes at you. "He your family?"

"My-" You cut youreslf off. "What did you do to him? Is he safe?"

"Those soldiers were after him." He explained. "Seemed intent on killin' him, all right. Got captured trying to save his bloody arse. As for safe, he's with Trufflehunter."

You breathed a sigh of relief you hadn't realized you'd been holding. "Good, good. Trufflehunter is...?"

"A badger." He grumbled under his breath. "None of the bloody Telmarines seem to know what a badger is."

"I do." You raised your hand. "Badgers! He talks, right? Old Narnian."

"Great." He grumbled. "Who are you again?"

"The Telmarine you saw." You cocked your head. "He's my brother."

"You never answered my question." He frowned. "Who're you? And who's he?"

"He's Prince Caspian the tenth." You said, crossing your legs to get to a more comfortable position. "And I'm Princess (Y/N)."

The dwarf's eyes widened. "What's a princess like you doing here?"

"Thanks to my uncle, who's most likely going to kill me. You know, bloody uncles and their bloody obsession with thrones. Who are you, anyway?"

He complained a lot, but you could see he wasn't a bad person. Nope, he was just incredibly negative. A good companion to have in the future, if you got out of this alive.

"Trumpkin." He decided.

A clanging interrupted your conversation and you stared at the guards, annoyed.

"It's time to come to the conference, _your majesty._ " The guard who had sneered at you earlier grabbed your arm. "Lord Miraz wishes for you to get changed."

Oh, how you wished you could knee this guard in the nuts.

Instead, you chose to ignore him, rather pointedly, as he led you to your chambers, and threw open the door. A dress was set out for you, and the guard nodded towards the dress as he closed the door. "Get changed in ten minutes. Someone's coming to pretty you up."

Why would Miraz do that?

 

Your lip curled up in disgust when you saw what he had for you. You were wearing a dark green dress, showing off your neck and shoulders, and  _incredibly_ flimsy, like a veil. It was just barely  _there,_ and you recoiled in disgust for your own  _uncle_ to make you wear these sort of things. It was just wrong.

But you were not going to let your uncle steal your pride from you.

Grabbing a shawl from your closet, you draped it around your shoulders and tied it around at the front as to hide the dress, although your legs showed, the veil covering it and tinting the skin green in the slightest. It was slightly cold and you shivered, cursing the thin material.

A woman came, mysterious and silent, a servant you had never seen before. She applied a red to your lips that contrasted your green dress, and green upon your eyelids. You fought the urge to fidget and ruin the makeup, out of spite for your uncle, yet decided against it. If you were going to die, you were going to die pridefully.

The guard led you out, with taunting comments about your clothes, but you ignored him, and thought of what Caspian would say if he saw you in a dress like this.

 _(Y/N)!_ He would shout.  _Get changed at once! What is my sister doing in such... such clothes?!_ Then he would advert his eyes, shouting  _ew_ again and again until you would change.

Hopelessly overprotective brothers were a thing you could never get rid of.

As you reached the chamber in which the lords were, the guard took out a pair of iron shackles and clamped them around your wrists. You, again, fought an urge to punch him with the irons.

Trumpkin adverted his eyes, and through his muffled mouth you could distinctly hear him cough,  _What are you wearing?_

You made a disgusted face.

"-fairy tales?" The voice of Lord Sopespian carried out to your ears and you rolled your eyes.

_Narnians aren't fairy tales._

The doors opened and you and Trumpkin were shoved in and forced to your knees. Miraz chuckled at your shawl before unwrapping it and letting it fall to the floor.

You, once again, hid an urge to knock your uncle's teeth out when you saw the goggling of the men. Some of them were  _drooling,_ for Aslan's sake.

But then the tension shifted and they all turned to examine Trumpkin. Cries rose up from the lords.

"What?"

"We forget, my lords, Narnia was once a savage land." Miraz spread his arms. "Fierce creatures roamed free. Much of our forefather's blood was shed to exterminate... THIS VERMIN!" His voice rose to a shout as he jabbed his finger at the dwarf.

"They are _not_ vermin....uncle." You snapped, clenching your hands.

"Or so we thought." He calmed down, and pretended he did not hear you. "But while we've been bickering amongst ourselves, they've been breeding like cockroaches under a rock! Growing stronger. Watching us."

He turned and faster than you could interpret, backhanded Trumpkin across his face. With an  _oomph,_ he fell, and then pushed himself back up, the rope gone from his mouth.

"And you wonder why we don't like you." The dwarf said slowly, almost in a menacing manner. Your uncle yet again ignored the words the two of you said.

"Well." Miraz's voice resonated through the room. "I intend to strike back! Even if I have to cut down the entire forest, I assure you, I will find Prince Caspian and finish what our ancestors began."

"They didn't begin anything, actually." You piped up. "You were the ones who did."

He breathed. "Even our dear princess was brainwashed by them, and now she is what you see in front of you. She helped kidnap her own brother. She took the sides of the NARNIANS!"

Miraz kicked you and the breath was knocked out of you, you landing with a painful jolt. You pulled yourself back up and managed to roll your eyes. "Well that's not very nice, hitting a girl without armor."

"Execution." Your uncle sighed. "That is the only way. No matter how much it pains me, this must be done. (Y/N) is a traitor to the throne. Does anyone disagree?"

No one argued. (Y/N) scoffed.

"Take them away."


	3. Chapter 3

"He won't stop staring."

"He's not that freaky, you know." (Y/N) was perched on the side of the boat, her feet shackled as well as her hands, and was tilting her head at the soldier rather pointedly.

"But he won't stop staring!"

"So don't look." The second soldier didn't look down at the dwarf, not once, and instead was glancing around at the area.

You shivered. It was quite cold, dressed in such revealing clothes in a river. You had  _no idea_ why you were still dressed like that. Did Miraz want to strip you of your pride when you died as well?

You were pretty peaceful considering this was your death. This was the nicest scenery you could have hoped for to die- woods, a river, swaying wind, beautiful blue sky. You had just hoped it would be a little less painful than drowning.

"Here's far enough." The soldier, previously rowing, stopped, and you gulped as fear kicked in, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You clenched your fists, considering fighting the guards, but it would be too late for that and you were shackled.

One of the guards grabbed you and the other grabbed the dwarf, ready to dump you into the river for your merrily bloated deaths.

"Drop them!" A female figure, not far off, shouted, and you cursed at their choice of words. An arrow hit the boat and they dropped both of you.

You had no time to ready your lungs as the air was knocked out of your lungs. Your eyes stung and you couldn't breathe. It wasn't the fact that you couldn't swim- you had been taught from a young age- it was that it was quite impossible to swim off, considering the shackles around your feet that made it hard to move your legs even an inch.

Your lungs burned for air and you desperately tried to concentrate for your powers, before realizing that you were under water. You could barely hold it in, and darkness crept into your vision.

Out of the corner of your eye, a black-haired boy swam towards you and placed his arm around your waist, holding you steady as he kicked off upwards. Both of you broke through the surface and you gasped, greedily sucking in the air. He gently helped you to the surface, and you fell into the sand, panting.

"Thank you." You mumbled, and you felt several clicks behind you before realizing the constricting restraints were off you, allowing you to walk as you pleased. You got up and immediately staggered to the water, washing off every artificial beautifier that your uncle had put on you. Only then did you join your saviors.

You realized, with a jolt, that there were four of them- a small brown haired girl with a red dress, the girl who had shouted at the guards to drop them, a tall blonde boy who had apparently saved Trumpkin, and the black haired boy who was your savior, whom you noted was quite handsome.

"Drop them!" The dwarf spluttered, on the ground next to you. "That the best you could come up with?!"

"A simple thank you would suffice." The girl with the bow responded, surprised.

You smiled apologetically, ruffling your hair so it would get dry more quickly.

"He doesn't thank people very often. Here's a thanks from me." You grinned. "Thanks."

She turned to you, a kind smile on her lips.

"They were doing fine drowning me without your help." He snapped.

"Maybe we should have let them." The girl retorted, turning from you.

You sneezed suddenly and everyone stared at you. That was when they noticed the clothing you had on. The incredibly inappropriate clothing.

The taller boy looked away immediately, a blush on his cheeks.

Your savior, the boy with the fluffy hair, chuckled a little at his... brother? and locked eyes with you. He let out a teasing smirk and you felt your face grow hot.

"Why're you dressed like that?" Peter asked.

"Courtesy of a stupid arse uncle." You grumbled, and wrapped your arms around yourself. "Tried to kill me several times. Have a spare dress or shirt?"

"No. Sorry..." The smallest girl looked at you apologetically. "We'll get you one once we reach the camp. Something warmer."

The taller girl hmphed. "Why were they trying to kill you two anyway?"

"They're Telmarines. That's what they do." You glared at the dwarf and he turned to them quickly, adding a "Some of them, anyway.".

"Telmarines in Narnia?" The boy looked surprised. You had to admit, he looked quite cute when he was surprised. Then you internally slapped yourself for feeling that way. What would your brother say?

Trumpkin scowled. "Where have you been for the last few hundred years?"

"It's a bit of a long story."

You stared at them- bow and arrow, the dagger on the little girl's hip, the sword on the blond boy-

You realized.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," You muttered. "First time I meet the kings and queens of old, and it's when I'm _drowning_ in a river?" You dropped to one knee. "Your majesties."

You felt a hand on your shoulder almost immediately and someone pulled you back up. "You don't have to do that." The boy with the fluffy hair, or King Edmund, you presumed, stuck out his hand. You gladly took it to pull yourself back up. He was quite warm.

"High King Peter, the Magnificent." He really was, you could see: even with him wet and panting, he did seem like a kingly figure. However, you had heard of his ego in the stories. Apparently it was incredibly bloated.

High Queen Susan nudged him. "You probably could've let off the last bit."

"Probably."

"You might be surprised." He unsheathed his blade.

"You don't want to do that, boy." Trumpkin narrowed his eyes.

He shook his head. "Not me, him."

King Edmund unsheathed his sword, grinning as he did so.

The dwarf grunted as the sword thunked to the ground, and Edmund shot you a smile. You knew what he was thinking: Trumpkin could barely lift his sword, maybe it would be easy-

He then swung it suddenly and the blade hit Edmund on the face.

"Edmund!" The girls cried.

"Oh, you all right, lad?" The dwarf peered at him, rather sarcastically, then swung to meet his blade.

They locked swords again for a moment before Edmund disarmed him with a stroke.

"Beards and bedsteads! Maybe that horn worked after all..."

"What horn?" The Pevensies and you simultaneously asked. 


	4. Chapter 4

"They're so still." The young girl surveyed the trees with what could only be described as sadness.

The dwarf scoffed. "They're trees. What'd you expect?"

The girl looked at him disapprovingly. "They used to dance, you know."

"Wasn't long after you left that the Telmarines invaded." The dwarf sighed. "Those who survived retreated into the woods. And the trees-"

"They retreated so deep into themselves that they haven't been heard from since." You finished for him, a sad smile on your face. "I wish I could hear them talk. Move."

"Well, if we manage to wake them in the future," Edmund (they had long since told her to stop referring to them by their titles and just to use their names) prodded you, "I'll make sure they throw stuff at you. Like rocks."

"They'd shatter against your head if you were in the way." You retorted, grinning.

Out of the four of them, you had grown used to Edmund the most. He had been closest to your age, although he looked a few years older, and he had been quite a good friend so far. Everything you needed- witty, sarcastic and absolutely smooth.

"But the trees aren't moving." Lucy's lower lip trembled. "I don't... I don't understand...How could Aslan let this happen?"

The dwarf  _tch_ -ed. "Aslan? Thought he abandoned us when you lot did."

You crossed your arms, trying your best not to look at Edmund as you said this. "They didn't abandon us, Trumpkin! And I'm sure Aslan didn't too."

_I would know because I met him._

"We didn't mean to leave, you know." Peter added.

"Makes no difference now, does it?" The dwarf replied.

"Get us to the Narnians, and it will." He sounded absolutely sure.

* * *

They had docked the boat on shore.

You had rushed to help everyone to get the boat on shore. Trumpkin had dropped the weight onto the ground and dug it in for good measure, while you, Peter, Susan and Edmund had helped pull the boat.

You grabbed the rope and not a second later Edmund's hand fell upon yours and he chuckled.

"A little eager, aren't we?"

"Says the one who's hand is on _top,_ hmm?" You replied with ease and backed away a little so the boy could get some room.

Behind you, you heard crunching and stopped. "Hello there!"

"It's all right, we're friends."

Lucy.

You felt fear creep through your heart and turned to see her approaching a black bear.

"Get away from there, your majesty!" Trumpkin's voice sounded urgent.

The bear lifted to its hind quarters and began rushing towards Lucy.

Susan had her bow out in an instant, aiming at the bear. "Stay away from her!"

Yet she did not shoot.

"Susan, shoot!" Edmund shouts, and you can almost feel the fear coursing in his veins, fear for Lucy.

You knew she wasn't going to, and ran towards the direction of the bear, towards Lucy.

Behind you, you heard Edmund shout, "Are you crazy, (Y/N)?!"

Just before the bear reached the girl, you dove between the two, pulled Lucy behind you and held out your hands in a defensive manner.

And you  _concentrated._

As soon as the bear touched your hands, it fell to the floor, the life slowly draining out of it.

"By the power invested in me by Aslan, dear one," You whispered, so small even Lucy could not hear you, "Rest in peace."

The bear let out what seemed like a contented sigh, and slumped, lifeless.

"Why wouldn't he stop?" Susan frowned, putting her arrow back in her quiver.

Trumpkin shrugged. "I expect he was hungry." He moved towards the bear, kneeling down to check it, while everyone rushed over to Lucy to see if she was fine.

"It was wild." Edmund seemed shook even. You put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, carefully, and he shot you a thankful glance.

"I don't think he could talk at all." Peter frowned, hugging Lucy close.

"Get treated like a dumb animal long enough and that's what you become. You may find Narnia a more savage place than you remember." Trumpkin stood up, brushing himself off.

"Not a mark and yet stone dead." He stared at you. "What'd you do to it?"

"It saved Lucy, didn't it? Doesn't matter." You had never liked using your power, and you shivered in your, yet again,  _thin_ clothes as you glanced at the corpse of the bear.

But this time, it wasn't because of the cold.

 


	5. Chapter 5

You heard a sound behind you and turned to see Edmund. You had asked for a "ten minute rest", and while the others were spending time with each other, you were perfectly content to stroll in the forest.

"Edmund?"

"(Y/N)." He stepped over a log and joined your side. "I meant to give this to you back there but didn't have the time."

You looked down at his arms and saw a white dress shirt. "I don't suppose you have shorts too?" You joked.

He grinned mischievously. "No, but we have your dress and we have a knife."

"Should I really be walking around unarmed, though, Edmund?"

Edmund's face turned into something more of a grimace. "We both know you're far from unarmed."

A sigh.

You turned away.

"I'm getting changed, thanks for the spare clothes, Ed."

"No problem." He flashed you a thumbs up and you laughed.

"Now shoo, unless you're a girl."

* * *

"I don't remember this way at all." Susan sighed, shaking her head, and looked around at the variety of rocks around them.

Peter snapped back, "That‟s the problem with girls. You can't carry a map in your heads."

"That's because our heads have something in them." Lucy retorted.

(Y/N) grinned at the little girl proudly before saying, "Apparently boys don't because they carry _maps_ in their heads."

Internally he laughed at the expression Peter gave them, but he didn't show it on his face. He had been with her for a day already and he knew, (Y/N) would tease him to hell and back for that.

Susan chuckled before whispering, "I wish he'd just listen to the DLF."

Edmund, although he kind of had an idea already, asked, "DLF?"

"Dear Little Friend." Lucy and (Y/N) said at once, and he barely stopped the smile from showing. Lucy and (Y/N) seemed to be getting closer, which was good. He liked her. Most of the girls at England spent 90% of their time in front of a mirror, dabbing at lipstick and trimming their skirts and all that. (Y/N) wasn't like that- she was quite cool, actually.

He examined her, and saw that she was wearing the clothes he gave her. She was wearing his uniform shirt, the first button loosely opened and the sleeves rolled up several times, although still reaching up to her elbows. It was altogether a bit big for her, but better than Peter's shirt. She had cut her dress and bunched it together into a rough draft of a dress, less transparent and more warm.

"Oh, that‟s not patronizing, is it?" Trumpkin crossed his arms.

Peter stepped into the rock passageway. "I'm not lost."

"No… you‟re just going the wrong way." The dwarf sarcastically replied.

He heard (Y/N) snort.

"You said you last saw Caspian at the Shuddering Wood, and the quickest way there is to cross at the river rush." He turned towards the smaller man, exasperated.

"But, unless I'm mistaken, there's no crossing in these parts." Trumpkin firmly stated.

And to his surprise, (Y/N) stepped up. "He's right, I've been here before, once. You _can't_ cross the river here. We've been here more recently than you, Peter. Unless we're mistaken-"

Peter glared, and headed under the archway. "That explains it then. You're mistaken."

(Y/N) scowled before ducking to follow him, murmuring to Edmund, "Is he always that bitter?"

"Just a teensy bit." He smirked. "It's okay, (Y/N). The better sibling's here."

They continued on until they came to the gorge. He looked down at the rushing water below, felt a hand on his shoulder, (Y/N) standing on tippy toes to see the water without falling in.

"Just because I'm shorter doesn't mean you can tease me." She warns at the slightest tug of his lips. "Not a word, Edmund Pevensie."

"Over hundreds of years, water eroded the earth's soil…" Susan started.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up." He turned to Trumpkin. "Is there a way down?"

"Yeah, falling." He spread his arms and Edmund heard (Y/N) laugh again, mumbling, "That dwarf."

"Come. There's a ford at Beruna. Any of you mind swimming?"

"Anything‟s better than walking." Susan groaned.

They started to walk, and Lucy glanced back for a brief moment before her eyes widened and her mouth gaped.

"Aslan? … It's Aslan! It's Aslan over there!" She turned to them, impatient. "Well, can't you see? He's right…"

She glanced over the river and her smile faded.

"...there."

"Do you see him now?" Trumpkin raised an eyebrow.

Lucy scowled. "I'm not crazy. He was there. He wanted us to follow him."

"I'm sure there are any number of lions in this wood. Just like that bear." Peter tried to comfort her. (Y/N) pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, and walked over to Lucy.

"I think I know Aslan when I see him." Lucy sounded a little angry.

Trumpkin turned away. "Look, I'm not about to jump off a cliff after someone who doesn't exist."

"I believe her. According to the old tales, she's the one who sees everything first." Lucy smiled, almost sadly, and snuggles into the older girl's side.

"The last time I didn't believe Lucy, I ended up looking pretty stupid." Edmund exchanged a look with (Y/N). They both knew Peter wasn't going to listen- he was High King Peter, for Aslan's sake. The nitwit of the family.

"Why wouldn't I have seen him?" Peter stubbornly argued, and (Y/N) breathed a deep sigh at his stubbornness. Edmund shook his head and came to stand besides (Y/N).

Lucy sighed, fully given up on her brother. "Maybe you weren't looking."

"I'm sorry, Lu." Peter shakes his head, and the three oldest- Trumpkin, Susan and Peter- walk away. Lucy slowly follows them, and Edward shakes his head at (Y/N).

"Hopeless."

"He's lost his touch." The girl mumbled, and took his hand, leading him away from the spot he had been glued to. "It's okay, you haven't, Ed."

"And yet he's still High King." He exclaimed, following (Y/N).

 


	6. Chapter 6

The group trudges along.

_Miserably._

Occasionally Lucy loses her footing and stumbles a bit, but they're about as miserable as a chain gang. A chain gang that's trying not to be heard, though.

As they pass through a particularly rocky bit, (Y/N) stumbles besides him, and grabs his arm to pull herself back up.

"If you wanted to touch me that bad, you could have just asked." He cracks a smile and she blushes furiously.

"I was _not_ trying to touch you!" She mutters.

But she keeps her hand on his arm, and for some reason, in the whole trip to the ford, he's miraculously distracted by it.

"Here!" The dwarf hisses, and the four others duck down.

"Wh-" He stifles a yelp as (Y/N) pulls him down.

"Try to get less distracted by me, okay, Lover boy?"

He splutters and hisses, "What? Did you just call me-"

"Don't get so flustered." She gives him a Cheshire grin.

Taking her hand, he brings it to his mouth. Her grin fades and she suppresses a blush. Laughing, he brings it down but still doesn't let go of her hand, instead taking it and slipping his fingers through hers.

"Of course, gorgeous."

"Will you two stop flirting already?" Peter snaps.

"Perhaps this wasn't the best way after all." Susan mumbles.

He sees (Y/N) peek over the pile of logs and she makes a face, ducking down immediately.

"What's wrong?"

"That's...uh, my uncle. Miraz."

"That guy is Miraz?" Susan gasps.

(Y/N) shoots her a look. "Yeah...and I'm pretty sure he's going to be crowned king."

All the others gape, except for Edmund. He's pretty sure he can see her in a crown and a royal dress. He's not surprised she's a princess.

Instead, he stifles a laugh. "I can see the family resemblance."

"Shut up!" She elbows him.

"How about we get out of here and you explain everything to us." Lucy suggested. "Back to the river rush."

"Great idea, Lucy." The girl next to him nods and they all creep into the forest.

* * *

"So... there's no explaining though." (Y/N) murmured, trudging along the forest to where the river rush was.

Peter sighed. "How about you tell us from the start, about how you're _a Telmarine princess_?"

She scowled. "It's not like I wanted to be born that way. My uncle took control after my mother and father died. He wants the throne, but keeps me and my brother alive just in case he needs an heir. Then he got a son, secured the bloodline, and bloody murder! Tried to kill me and my brother. But then I helped my brother run away and Miraz used that as an excuse to dress me up and throw me in a river."

"Who _is_ your brother again?" Susan raised her eyebrows. "And who gave you those spare clothes?"

Edmund could see everyone was dying to ask that. The second question.

"My brother's...Prince Caspian. Like, the tenth."

"Your brother's Prince Caspian?" He exclaimed.

"No need to be surprised." She coolly squeezed his hand. "I mean, I thought you could see the family resemblance."

Susan coughed. "About my second question-"

"This? Edmund gave it to me. It's his, I think."

Edmund glared at Susan, knowing full well what his sibling was going to say. "Not a word."

"Edmund..." Susan's lips curved upwards. "Someone sees stars."

Confused, Lucy tugged at Peter's sleeve. "Stars? Why are they like that?"

"You'll understand when you're older." He explained. "So where do you think you saw Aslan again?"

"I wish you'd all stop acting like grown-ups. I didn't think I saw him, I did see him." Lucy snapped. She seemed quite upset.

"I am a grown-up." Trumpkin blinked, seemingly confused.

(Y/N) muttered obscenities under her breath and went to stand besides Lucy. "Where did you see him, then?"

"It was right around…" The smaller girl walked over to the edge of the cliff, then a guttural scream rang out as the ground collapsed beneath her.

"Lu!" Peter cried, and ran over to the hole, peering down. Edmund joined them and saw Lucy sitting safely a few feet down.  


"...here." She ended her sentence.

Peter, due to his height, just climbed down in a few steps, helped Susan down as well, and began walking down the path. Trumpkin leaped down and landed on his feet with an  _oomph._ Edmund followed, but saw (Y/N) standing there.

He laughed and she scowled.

"It's not my fault I'm short, okay, Lover boy?"

"Jump." He held out his arms. "I'll catch you."  


"About that." She eyed him nervously. "I don't really trust you. You're probably going to let me fall."

He clutched his chest. "Hey, gorgeous, I'm not that mean."

She gritted her teeth before muttering, "You fourteen-year-old obscenity."

"Not like you're much better, gorgeous." He winked. "Come on, I'll catch you."

(Y/N) set her feet on the edge of the ledge and dropped down, and he angled himself so that he caught her fall, his arms catching her around the waist just in time.

"Th-thanks." She started to blush and he realized the rather  _awkward_ position they're in. "For catching me, I mean."

He let her down, gently. "You're welcome. That's what knights in shining armor are for, right?"

Edmund had no way to explain the reason why his heart pace picked up, or why his eyes suddenly lingered on her lips a little too long.

"Thanks." She smiled softly. "Here's a prize for the knight in shining armor." A hand resting on his chest, she reached up to kiss his cheek, letting her lips linger there.

"Well, if that was the prize, gorgeous, I'd catch you a thousand times over." He grinned.

"Hurry up, lovebirds!" Susan yelled, and (Y/N) stuck out a tongue at him before running off to join the girls. He followed behind.

In front of him, as he walked along, he heard: "-mund."

Then, red-faced and blushing, (Y/N) punched Susan in the arm and hissed something he was unable to make out.

"Single file." Peter told them at the stream. "Try not to fall in, will you?"  


"Lucy!" (Y/N) yelled in alarm as she lost her footing. The girl flailed.

Then Trumpkin caught her and pushed her back on the rock path, gently.

"Are you all right?" (Y/N), behind Trumpkin, asked with a worried expression.

Lucy grinned, almost mischievously.

_Oh, no._

"I'm okay." She said, slowly. "I'm sure you'll be too. According to Peter and Susan, Edmund will catch you."

He mentally facepalmed.

(Y/N) nudged him. "Are you actually going to?"

"If that's what it takes to replay the scene up there in the cliff." He winked and saw her face go red. She quickly turned away.

"Lucy, just hurry up."

The statement was responded to with a giggle.

* * *

You tossed and turned in your place. You couldn't sleep- for one thing, it was cold, and for another thing, every time you closed your eyes, a certain black-haired boy by the name of Edmund Pevensie came to your mind.

So you were partly glad when Susan interrupted you and Lucy. "Lucy, you awake?" to which Lucy responded with a "Hmm."

"Why do you think I couldn't see Aslan?" Susan asked Lucy, her face filled with concern.

"You believe me?" Lucy sat up.

"Well, we got across the gorge." Susan shrugged.

"And I believe you." You shrugged back.

But you didn't tell them.

Lucy thought. "...I don't know. Maybe you didn't really want to."

"You always knew we'd be coming back here, didn't you?" Susan asked Lucy.

You turned over and sit up. "You've come from a different world, right?"

Lucy nodded. "Yeah, England. It's great there, (Y/N). You should visit!"

"I've always wanted to go." You sighed. "Another land. Can you believe it? I've been stuck in a castle my whole life. It's not the luxury everyone thinks it is. I want to get treated...normally for once."

_Especially since I have that damnable power._

Lucy's face fell. "Well, you'll _love_ it there in England. It's so normal. Finchley. And as for Susan's question, I always knew we would come back. I hoped so."

"I just got used to the idea of living in England." Susan frowned. "(Y/N), you're happy for us to be here though, right? I mean," She wiggled her eyebrows towards the sleeping form of a certain boy. "him."

"Oh, shut up, Susan!" You felt your cheeks grow hot and buried them in your knees, looking down at the ground.

"That is my ultimate pairing." She laughed, and you groaned. Although, you had to admit, Edmund was a hottie. "I think we were all just getting used to England."

"But you're happy to be here, aren't you?" Lucy prompted.

Susan looked up at the sky wistfully. "While it lasts."

"I just hope you don't go too quickly." You swept your hair back and laid back on the ground. There was silence, and by the heavy breathing you could hear that everyone was asleep.

You couldn't sleep though. It bugged you- not being able to tell anyone about your powers. Especially since it wasn't a power you preferred.

_I have to take it as a gift, though. Aslan gave it to me._

Your fingers were different from your brothers. His was sturdy, calloused in order to grab a sword. Yours were more narrow, thin and slender and long.

Aslan himself had given you this. You couldn't think of this as a curse.

It was a gift.

This was why you didn't want to think about your powers. It dampened your mood.

_Try it, just once._

You raised your hand, and moved your fingers a little, flexing them.

And it happened.

A flame sparked up in your hand, and a flame the size of an apple grew steadily. You stared at it for a few moments, knowing your eyes were fiery red.

Then you closed your fist, and with a  _pop,_ the flame sizzled out.


	7. Chapter 7

You hear a twig snapping and turn towards the direction of the sound, frowning and rubbing your eyes. You could have sworn you heard-

Yup. Lucy is there, peering through the trees worriedly. She steps out of your line of sight and you try to get up, realizing you can't because an arm is draped over you.

Edmund?

Just realizing what this looks like, you blush furiously and try to get him off you, but he groans and shift even closer to you, his arm draped around your waist and his head buried into the crook of your neck.

"What the-" Desperately, you shake him. "Ed! Lover boy! Edmund Pevensie! Wake up!"

He mumbles something that you can't make out and peeks at you. "Why are we cuddling?"

"Ask yourself." You snort. "You're the one who's hugging my waist like a sloth."

"You are really soft, though." He moves your hair back from your face and moves his face away from your neck, so that he can see you fully. "What's wrong? Miss me?"

"Lucy went that way." You point at the direction she went. "Alone."

He curses and calls Peter. "Pete! Wake up!"

"Can you, maybe, go there and shake him or something?"

"No." He grins. "I like this position."

"You sound so _weird,_ Ed, shut up." You can't even get up. Great.

"What?" Peter turns and frowns at you two. "Why are you cuddling?"

"Ask _him! He's_ the one that's not letting go." You cross your arms in a pout. "Oh, and Lucy ran off that way. You better hurry, we'll wake the others."

He nods, not questioning your antics once it gets to the topic of Lucy, and runs towards the direction you direct him towards.

"Su-" You move towards her and this time Edmund lets you go, wistful at the warmth you brought.

"Susan! Wake up! And Edmund, don't just _sit_ there, wake Trumpkin!

Susan stares at you for a moment. "What's wrong?" She finally asks.

"Lucy went that way. Peter's gone to pursue her, but come on, wake up!"

Not arguing, she sits up and immediately grabs her bow and arrows, slinging them over her shoulders. You hear Trumpkin and Edmund and immediately grab Edmund's sword from the ground, tossing it to him.

"Careful." He smiles. "Don't want to cut this handsome face, do we?"

"Pfft. Handsome." You roll your eyes. "I'll just go check first quickly."

Something is strange though: You hear clashing of swords and peer over the edge. Lucy's staring, horrified, at the sight of Peter and your brother fighting. As you watch, Peter picks up a rock while Caspian's back is turned and raises it, ready to smash in the head of your brother.

"NO!" You shout simultaneously with Lucy, and run into the clearing. Peter just stares at you, and Caspian takes a look at you before he realizes.

"(Y/N)?!"

"Caspian!" You break out into a grin.

Peter surveys the man in front of him, who's aiming a sword at him. "Prince Caspian?"

"Yes." He points the sword at him. "And who are you?"

Out of sight, Susan yells, "Peter!"

Caspian frowns and looks at the blade with writing on it, and the hilt with the golden lion's pommel.

"High King Peter?" He says, disbelieving.

Peter grins smugly. "I believe you called."

"Well yes, but… I thought you'd be older." He looks at the four of them.

Peter shrugged. "Well, if you‟d like, we can come back in a few years."

In unison, you and Caspian shout, "No!"

Caspian's eyes are on Susan, and, although you hate to admit it, you're looking at Edmund ever so slightly. Edmund notices and shoots you a wink. You just roll your eyes.

Your brother coughs and regains his composure. "No, that's alright. You're just… You're not exactly what I expected."

He looks at Susan.

Oh, you'll have to tease him about that later.

Edmund responds almost immediately, breaking the tension. "Neither are you!"

His eyes follow a Minotaur and you remember from the old tales that in the battle against the White Witch, they had been on the Witch's side. Thus explaining Edmund's sore side.

You just take his hand cautiously, and when he turns to you, you wink and squeeze it. His other hand reaches out to rub the back of his neck sheepishly and you feel him relax.

Caspian, oblivious, continues. "A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes."

"We have anxiously awaited your return, my liege. Our hearts and swords are at your service." A small mouse with a feather on his head bows to Peter.

Lucy gasps and whispers, "Oh my gosh, he is so cute..."

The mouse's eyes narrow and he whips out his sword, pointing it in the direction of you three girls.

"Who said that?!" He growls, seemingly quite offended.

Lucy guiltily avoids the mouse's gaze. "....sorry."

"Oh." He puts his sword away and bows deeply. "Oh, uh… your majesty. With the greatest respect…I do believe courageous, courteous, or chivalrous might more befit a knight of Narnia."

Peter chuckles slightly. "Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade."

The knight nods. "Yes, indeed. And I have recently put it to good use acquiring weapons for your army, sire."

"Good. Because we‟re going to need every sword we can get."

Caspian grins. "Well then, you'll probably be wanting yours back." He holds out Peter's sword to him, and he takes it handle first, sliding it back within his sheath.

Peter walks away, and you roll your eyes at his ego.

"I've got to go talk to my brother, if he sees us holding hands he'll throttle us." You joke, and lets go of Edmund's hand, although you miss the warmth it brought.

He raises an eyebrow. "If I recall correctly, it was _you_ who held my hand first."

"Well, you were the one who got me worried first!" You argue, then groan. He's  _Edmund._ Fighting is hopeless. "I'll just go get a proper dress. Thanks for the shirt, it was good while it lasted."

You head over to your brother and his grin widens as he sees you. "Little sister!" He exclaims.

Giggling, you throw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. He hugs back and kisses the top of your head before letting go. "Someone's got a boyfriend."

You don't have to be a genius to know he's referring to Edmund, so instead you retort, "Someone's lovestruck."

"Who, me?" He smiles, and pets your head. "Are you well? Did Miraz treat you fine enough?"

Deciding not to tell him about your clothing problem, you nod. "Can you help me get a proper dress, though? I'm freezing cold and my wardrobe is mixed up."

He surveys your clothing. "It seems so." He nods gravely, and holds out his hand. You take it, laughing, and he pulls you along to fix your outfit.


	8. Chapter 8

"Tch." You tut. "Being a bossy idiot. No, no, no. I won't."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Edmund sidles up to you, eyes moving between your face and sword that he's trying to get on his belt ever so often. "You've been mumbling and striding about like you're mad."

"I am mad." You huff as you pull the laces on your boots tightly, sitting up again to check everything was in place. "I am _very_ mad."

"Why?" He still fumbles with getting the sword on his belt. "I mean, fighting mad is not a good thing."

You throw up your hands before leaning over to him and your nimble hands work on getting the sword on the belt, fastening and securing. "I'll check your armor for you."

"You ignored my question." Edmund grabs her wrists and forces her to look into his eyes. "Why are you mad?"

You whine in frustration as you try to move your arms. He holds them in place firmly, however, and you're pretty sure he wants an answer. Normally he would tease you about this and you would end up self-conscious, but you're so angry at the  _nerve_ of that man, you don't even care.

"Fine!" You growl. "Your brother and my brother, the two _bossy_ morons with egos inflated as big as balloons, are acting like idiots!"

"I mean, they're always idiots." Edmund drops your hands and you lean down until you're right in front of him, checking every strap and every plate of his armor.

"Good," You duck down to adjust the greaves. "Well, as to _how_ they're being idiots..." You pull yourself back up and mime their deep voices.  _"Oh, you're a girl. Stay. Be protected while we strong, handsome men do all the work. You want to go? No! You know why? Because I said so. And you have to listen to me, obviously. We're royalty. And your opinion doesn't matter even if you're royalty, because guess what! You're a girl and you need to be protected. I'm going to ignore the fact that you took out a full grown bear, and the fact that you defeated five Telmarian soldiers unarmed, cause I already said, you're a girl!"_

The boy in front of you chuckles. "I get it now."

"I can fight." You cross your arms. "And I have King Edmund the Just here to help me."

He murmurs something.

"What?"

"I said, I like it when you call me by my full title."

"Yeah, Lover Boy." You snort and pat him on the back. "Keep dreaming. I'm going to the siege whether they like it or not."

"Hey." He says suddenly, grinning. "I've got a guard position open. Someone needs to protect the signal guy while he's signaling, right?"

You process the information, then a huge smile breaks out on your face. "Edmund, you're a genius! You are _brilliant,_ King Edmund the Just."

Then, engulfed in your own euphoria, you place a hand on his chest and your heels leave the ground for a slight moment as you peck Edmund on the cheek.

"Can I get another one, since I'm so brilliant?" He suggests, hopeful.

You tilt your head and a mischievous smirk forms on your face. "If both of us gets back alive, Lover Boy."

* * *

The griffin silently takes a steep dive and your heart leaps up into your throat. You barely hold back a scream and swallow thickly, trying your best not to look down.

"Scared?" The boy next to you teases, and you huff.

"No."

"You're in denial."

"I'm in _renial._ " You retort.

"There's no such word." He needs to speak louder to get you to hear him over the wind, but no one can hear him anyway.

You make a face at him. "Of _course_ there isn't."

The griffin that's holding you lags behind a little and you know the plan's put in action. The griffin carrying Edmund lays itself flat on the roof, digging its now empty claws into the tiles while Edmund clutches at the grooves in the surface.

Your griffin- whose name, you find out delightedly, is James- hovers on top of the soldier and drops you perfectly on him. You land on your feet, kicking his head and stabbing him before anything can happen.

"Deadly." Edmund fishes out his 'torch'- a strange thing that creates light on its own without burning- and clicks it on and off. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"You get on my bad side anyway." You snort, and he raises an eyebrow as he clicks it on and off repeatedly.

"Good point."

Edmund juggles his torch before fumbling with it. "Damn-"

He hastily grabs for the torch, but with a  _clack,_ it falls down. You sigh in exasperation. "Edmund!"

"Sorry..." He sheepishly winces and heads towards the staircase. You look down to see a soldier taking hold of it and turning it on. He aims it at his face and blinks.

_Oh, no, what if the others think it's a signal?_

Groaning, you follow Edmund down the stairwell and see him struggling with a soldier. You run to help him when you hear footsteps, and duck on instinct to see a soldier swinging a sword at where your head was a second earlier.

"Now, Ed, now! Signal the troops!" Peter shouts somewhere below you.

Edmund, desperate, grapples with the guard. "I'm a little busy right now, Pete!"

"I thought he had a guard to manage that, (Y/N)!"

You cross your blades with the guard. He's about a foot taller than you and you curse as he swings his weapon, rolling out of the way.

"I'm busy too! Don't just assume-" You duck and slice at his legs, him howling in pain as your sword cuts clean through. You wrinkle your nose in disgust before finishing him off, turning to Edmund to see him struggling with the torch.

You internally groan.

"Did you break it?"

He shakes it and bashes it against his hand. "I think- there you go!" The torch turns on and he flashes it in the direction of the woods, where the troops are waiting.

Edmund suddenly starts running and slides down the roof, knocking out a soldier aiming his crossbow at a certain high King.

"Edmund!" You shout, alerting him to the several  _other_ soldiers aiming their crossbows at him.

He gives a panicked look towards you, but you know you won't reach him in time. He realizes this and instead dives towards the nearest door, slamming it shut with his foot.

This is good, because he at least does not have arrows embedded in his handsome face that you're crushing on, but that is also very bad because it means he's separated from you.

They aim at the people below once again,  _your_ people, and you let out a growl before slipping down the tiles on your feet, kicking the first guard. He falls, unconscious, and you draw your sword before stabbing the second in the gut while grabbing his crossbow.

You whip around and shoot three guards before reaching the fourth. He's smarter and draws his sword, disarming you in an instant.

"Hands in the air." He says. "Put them where I can see them."

Slowly, you put your hands in the air. None of your troops seem to notice, but other guards come and surround you and you grit your teeth. This is going to be hard without a weapon.

Or you can use your powers, if you want a higher chance of getting out alive.

Teeth gritted, you bring your hands slightly down. They frown and yell at you to put your hands back up.

"FALL BACK!" Peter bellows. "RETREAT!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Asterius grunt as he quickly positions himself beneath the falling gate.

You've got no time, and using your powers are the quickest. You snap your fingers and fire engulfs both of your hands, the guards stumbling back in fear and surprise. Releasing a mound of flame at the nearest two soldiers, you pick up your sword, sheathe it and run to the edge of the balcony, jumping off.

You flip gracefully in midair. Flexibility is one of your greatest traits when fighting, something even Caspian or Peter doesn't have. It's partly due to the fact that you're a girl, but also partly due to the fact that you've been training in acrobatics since you were little. You know how to take a fall.

Landing in a squat, you stick out your leg and stand up as the soldier flails and falls. Stabbing him in the chink of his armor, you look towards the door.

You won't make it.

Peter, riding a horse, barely rides through the gate. Reepicheep, you note, manages to get out through the gap between the gate and the ground, formed by Asterius' body. Peter glances back and catches your eye, a horrified expression on his face.

"(Y/N)!" He shouts. Caspian jerks at your name and his mouth gapes open. You nod to them and smile bitterly, your head tilted slightly upwards.

"Go!" You wave him away and Peter's eyes flicker back to the bridge steadily rising. His horse just manages to pass it.

You swallow as you see the dead bodies. You feel guilty for surviving when all these people have died, but you can't. Not yet.

Taking a deep breath, you run towards the wall and kick off from it, jumping as high as you can. "Catch, Lover boy!" You yell, and that's what he does. His hands grab onto yours, warm and full of life.

Edmund heaves you up onto the griffin and you land in front of him, wrapping your arms around him as you turn back. You don't care that Miraz is watching you with his beady eyes- wrapping your arms around Edmund's waist, you sob into his collar. "Edmund..."

His arm is across your shoulders, and he comforts you, your safe haven from the death and the worries.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Your fingers are intertwined and you lean your head back in Edmund's chest as the griffin soars over your army- or what is left of it.

In the entrance of Aslan's How, you see the confused looks- why are there so little left? Why does Glenstorm return with one less son?

You know it's wrong, but you feel... _guilty_ for being alive when all those Narnians sacrified their life for this.

The griffin sets down lightly in the crowd and Edmund offers you an encouraging smile as he helps you down.

"-could have called it off. There was still time!" You recognize the two voices arguing as your brother and Peter.

Peter snarls and you push through the crowd, pulling Edmund with you. "No there wasn't, thanks to you. If you‟d kept to the plan, those soldiers might be alive right now."

Caspian huffs angrily, and turns away. You see how solid his face is.

_He must think I'm still dead._

"And, if you'd just stayed here like I suggested, they definitely would be!" He shouts. " _Especially_ my sister!"

"You called us, remember?" Peter snapped.

Caspian's voice drops down. "My first mistake." His voice sounds dangerous. Triggered.

Edmund's grip tightens on your hand and you look up to see his muscles tensed. You know what he's thinking. People are dead and they're arguing about some stupid thing?

Peter leers at him. "No. Your first mistake was thinking you could lead these people. You should have taken the place of your sister. At least she could _lead_ people."

"Hey! I am not the one who abandoned Narnia." Caspian's accent is thick, which is what happens when he's stressed. You know he's  _very_ stressed right now.

Lucy, standing in the entrance of the cave, seems conflicted, lost and confused at the same time. Poor girl.

"You invaded Narnia. You have no more right to it than Miraz does! You, him, your father… Narnia's better off without the lot of you!" Peter spits at his feet.

Caspian shouts and they both draw their swords.

By how hard Edmund is holding your hand, you know he's about to lose his temper soon. The two stride towards each other.

"Stop it!" Edmund hollers at them, and walks forwards. You don't let go of his hand and instead follows him, clearing the way for Glenstorm.

Oh, the poor centaur. Even though he's lost a son and many of his brethren, he still remains strong to care for others, which is what he's doing as he sets down a injured Trumpkin. Lucy immediately runs over to him as Caspian rushes towards you. "(Y/N)!"

You don't respond immediately and watch as Lucy pours a drop of the healing liquid into the dwarf's mouth. He stays still for a moment, then slowly blinks.

"What are you all standing around for? The Telmarines will be here soon enough." He hmphs and Lucy breaks out in a grin.

Trumpkin, as soft as you've ever seen him talk, say, "Thank you... dear little friend."

"(Y/N)... I thought you were dead..." Caspian pleads, grabbing hold of your shoulders.

You turn to him, and your temper finally boils over. "Oh, is that what your _dead sister_ would have wanted, you fighting with Peter? Can you just please act rationally for once! I only lived because Edmund helped me, but no, you don't care, do you?" Your hand is out of Edmund's grip, and you're stepping forwards, jabbing your finger at Caspian's chest while he walks back, seemingly scared. "I'm. Going. To. Let. My. Temper. Do. Whatever. It. Wants. This is _NOT_ a time to be irrational, Caspian! You're the older sibling, act like it, okay?! You need advice, I help. You need to get away from Miraz, I help. You need to get anything, do anything, I help, because guess what, you can't hide a temper to save your life! Am I mistaken, or can you do something without losing your temper?! Lose that ego!" You snapped harshly.

Everybody's staring, from Edmund, whose hand is on your shoulder, to Lucy, who's still holding her vial but is parting her lips slightly.

"Thanks, Edmund." You turn to him, with a softer voice. "I owe you one."

Reaching up, you drop a kiss on his cheek.

Caspian steps forwards, then thinks better of it and steps back.

Shooting him a glare, you walk back into Aslan's how.


	10. Chapter 10

You lay on the ground, staring up at the clear sky as the soft grass tickled your face.

_The Minotaur moaned as an arrow sliced clean through his shoulder, and clutched the wound. Another hit his leg with force and he staggered backwards. The archer, knowing it was going to die, aimed the arrow at your unsuspecting back._

_"My princess!" He rumbled before diving in front of you, the arrow hitting a literal bull's eye as he thumped to the ground, dead._

_You looked down at the soldier in sadness and shame. So many people were dying for you, you did not even know if you deserved it or not..._

"Nice speech you gave there." A voice penetrated your thoughts and you looked up, annoyed, but the feeling vanished as soon as you saw who was the owner of the voice- Edmund.

"Hey, lover boy." The nickname was an attempt to sound witty, but it obviously didn't work, as Edmund, concerned, sat down next to you. You pulled yourself up to a sitting position and gathered your knees to your chest.

He frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Just..." You hesitated. "Just thinking."

"You don't seem okay."

Giving in, you just slumped. "I'm not, actually."

He handed you a long blade of grass. It was brown and dried out, and as soon as you applied more than a little bit of pressure to it, it cracked, making a crisp sound.

"Flowers?" You laughed bitterly. "Aww, you shouldn't have, Ed."

"When you stomped off," He took them from you and crushed it between his fingers, blowing it away in the wind. "Every patch of grass your feet touched, this happened."

You felt guilty.

_More lives taken because of you._

"I'm..." You sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Your powers." He watched the brown bits drift away. "Does this have anything to do about it?"

"Yes..." You leaned your head on his shoulder. "I owe you an explanation, don't I?"

Quite hesitantly, the boy said, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I... I owe you it. After everything I did."

His arms wrapped around your shoulders and brought you closer to him. "Then feel free to tell."

"I..." Holding out your hand, you turned your fingers around. "Can you tell what powers I have?"

"Something to do with moisture?" He guessed, and you shook your head.

"My fingers," You started. "I've been cooking since I got here, helping provide for everyone, yet don't you find it weird that there's not a single burn mark? And even in the rainiest of days, I can get a fire starting?"

"You could be incredibly good at it." He offered, grinning. "I mean, tasting the soup you hand out, it's pretty good, you know?"

"No." You denied, although you were smiling a little. "It's because I'm impervious to fire. And..." Flexing your fingers slightly, you took your other hand and closed them over each other. When you pulled your fingers apart, a flame was steadily growing on the hand on the bottom.

He gaped.

"Woah, you're hot." He joked.

You elbowed his side. "Anyways, how I got it...Aslan gave me this power. I met him when I was young, I was exploring the ruins and I found him. He said he had been waiting for me. He breathed over me, placing his paw on my shoulder, and said that I would be destined to fight for a greater good, and it would save my life sometime. Right now, it's saved my life multiple times, but I couldn't argue because it was Aslan, of course." You extinguished the flame. "The day after I met him, I started burning up with a fever and they were all scared. The doctors all said I was going to die."

"Yet here you are." He patted you. "You can't trust doctors."

You hid your smile. "Yes, you can't, because I survived, and a week after it all started, my fever died down. It was because the power was being infused in me, and the next day I burnt down half the stables. The only person who knew my secret was my parents, and..." You breathed. "They took the secret to their graves, I guess."

"Oh," A moment of silence, then: "I hate it when people say sorry, so I'm guessing you'll hate it when I say sorry."

"Yes." You raised an eyebrow. "You know me well, young Edmund."

"Why didn't you tell anyone though?" He inquired. "No one's going to blame you. Is it because you burnt down the stables?"

"I..." That hit a sore spot. "No, but..."

He sensed your hesitation and took your hands in his. "You don't have to tell me if you want, remember?"

"I burnt him." You said, softly. "Caspian. He was younger then, it had been about an year after I got my powers. I was still learning to control them, then..." You drifted off, then found your voice again.

"I accidentally locked him in his own room, and when he grabbed the metal handle of the door it burnt his hand, and the door was on fire. He almost got charred _and_ smoked to death. He wasn't breathing properly, and I was so traumatized I locked myself in for two weeks before Caspian himself talked me out of the room. He didn't remember anything about the incident, of course, brain damage, and so I promised never to use my powers again. I learned to control my powers and locked them away inside myself."

"But here you are." His thumb caressed the skin on your hand. "Using your powers."

He leaned closer until you were inches away from each other, and your mouth parted slightly. You felt his heavy breathing against your skin. Your heart raced. You tilted your head slightly, and his hand came to cup your cheek-

_Something was wrong._

"And I think we'll have to use it again." You pulled away and stood up. "The room with the stone table. I sense something."

He frowned, then stiffened. "Something cold."

"It's prodding at my powers, like-" You gasped. "Ow!"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm all right, but the others aren't. Go!"

He pulled you along, hands held to keep each other from separating. The stone table was almost in sight, and you saw Peter and Trumpkin only a little ahead of you.

What was in front of you was horrible- Caspian was reaching towards a solid block of ice, in which the White Witch was preserved.

"-and you free me. Then I am yours, my king."

You glanced cautiously besides you, and saw Edmund's jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed with hate.

"Stop!" Peter yelled, and they all ran into the hall.

Chaos broke out.

They all drew their swords and attacked.

You saw Trumpkin heading towards Nikabrik. He could handle that.

Edmund swung his sword at the werewolf and it howled in pain, clawing at Edmund, but he ducked the the claws.

In the other end of the room, you saw Peter's sword getting knocked out of his hand by the hag and bounded towards the ugly creature, slashing at it. It ducked, but that was all the distraction it needed- Peter lunged and kicked it into a pillar. You whistled as the hag fell to the ground, groaning.

"Nice kick." You commented, and your head turned sharply at the sound of Lucy crying out. Nikabrik stood over the girl and as you ran towards Edmund, got stabbed in the back by Trumpkin. Well, he deserved it.

You join Edmund and he nodded before running towards you. He ran past you and the shaggy creature followed, but as soon as it was near you you slashed at its hide. It growled in pain before falling to the floor. Edmund grabbed your arm, running in the direction of Peter. "Come on!"

Peter stood, petrified, as the White Witch's lips move in what seemed to be a convincing murmur. Edmund, instead of going to Peter, swerved and stood in front of the ice in the back.

"Can you melt it?"

You shrugged and snapped your fingers, conjuring a flame. You fed power to it till it got stronger and stronger, but instead of blasting it at the wall of ice, set it upon Edmund's sword like a candle, except the flame covered the whole blade.

He looked confused for a second but grinned, and drew back his sword before stabbing it at the ice. Cracks spread up from the fissure like cobwebs, water dripped down and the ice shattered, revealing a shocked Peter.

"I know. You had it sorted." Edmund remarked, quite bitterly, and you smirked before twirling your fingers. Like a magnet, the fire spread on Edmund's sword drew back and disappeared upon touch of your palms.

With that, Edmund sheathed his sword and the two of you walked away, you with one hand on your hip and another running your fingers through your hair, and him with his arms crossed.

"Nice touch with the sword." He chuckled.

You snorted. "Nice touch in breaking the ice."

"Literal or figurative?"

"Both."


	11. Chapter 11

"Is there any reason we have to hold these things?" (Y/N) grimaces and waves the branch again.

Edmund, next to you, drops his. "Exactly. They've probably seen us, so bye branch!"

The camp is absolutely silent the moment you step one foot into it, and you see some eyes stray towards you.

 _The princess of the Telmarines have betrayed us._ Unspoken words linger in the air.

Your hand finds its way to Edmund's and he takes it without a second thought, reassuringly smiling at you.

Glenstorm and Wimbleweather halt in front of the tent that you know the council's in.

"We will wait outside." He trots nervously and clears the way for you.

You point out, "Well, Wimbleweather can't fit here anyway."

"Good point." Edmund nods slowly, exaggeratedly, and you crack a smile before you open the tent flap for him. He ducks in and you play with the scroll you're holding, although you're careful not to rip it, quite nervously. He lets go of your hand after a reassuring squeeze and walks over to stand in the middle of the platform while you place yourself near the entrance.

Miraz gazes over the two of you before his eyes settle on yours, uncomfortably long, but you don't advert your gaze. In the end, he's forced to, and he growls in annoyance.

"(Y/N)." He drawls out, and you cross your arms.

You raise an eyebrow. "Acting tough in front of Soap sheen and Gazelle, _uncle_?"

"It's Sopespian and Glozelle." He says, annoyed. You stick out your tongue and he clenches his teeth. "I see you're quite smitten with old tales?"

"You're the one with the tail, Miraz." You snap. "A demon's tail."

Edmund holds in a laugh.

"I see." Miraz takes his cold eyes off you after a short while. "Let's see what the boy has to say."

You have an urge to throw the scroll to him, but instead walk over to him and hands him the scroll. He winks and you know punching him in the arm is futile with all the armor he's wearing, so just cross your arms (quite stiffly over the armor) but fail to hide a smile that tugs on your lips. Walking back, you just listen to his voice, his smooth voice that reads out the scroll.

“I, Peter, by the gift of Aslan, by election and by conquest, High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands, in order to prevent the abominable effusion of blood, do hereby challenge the usurper Miraz to single combat upon the field of battle. The fight shall be to the death. The reward shall be total surrender.”

Miraz sits still for a short while, then leans forwards. "Tell me, Prince Edmund-"

"King." You and Edmund correct him in unison.

Your uncle develops a tic in his eye. "Pardon?"

"It's King Edmund, actually." He doesn't look up from rolling the scroll up, and you know for a fact that Edmund's casual behavior is setting Miraz off his edge. "Just king, though. Peter's the High King. I know, it's confusing."

You snort behind your hand and see some of the lords glance at you.

"Why would we risk such a proposal when our army could wipe you out by nightfall?"

"Haven't you already underestimated our numbers? I mean, only a week ago, Narnians were extinct."

"And so you will be again." Miraz eerily comments.

Edmund casually shrugs, "Then you should have little to fear."

"This is not a question of bravery." The Telmarine laughs.

As a-matter-of-factedly, Edmund replies, "So you're bravely refusing to fight a swordsman half your age?"

This time you can't hold it in and laugh out loud. The lords glance at you even more, annoyedly, and you scowl at them before conjuring a flame on your palm behind you so that your eyes flash red. Frightened, they quickly look away.

"I didn't say I refused."

A Telmarine lord whose name you forgot says, "You shall have our support, your majesty, whatever your decision."

"Sire, our military advantage alone allows us the perfect excuse to avoid—"

Miraz stands up, knocking over something, and draws his sword, glaring at his council. "I am _not_ avoiding anything!"

"I am merely pointing out that my lord is well within his rights to refuse."

Glozelle shakes his head, and you narrow your eyes- something's wrong. They're herding him into a tight corner so he can't come out- but then again, no one really wanted him to become king. You recall some of the lords even holding strong dislikes for him, especially Sopespian and-

Glozelle.

"His majesty would never refuse. He relishes the chance to show his people the bravery of their new king." The said man shakes his head.

Miraz points his sword at Edmund, and you scowl- you don't like people pointing sharp objects like swords and knives at your...what do you call him. Romantically involved friend? Boyfriend? Just best friend?

"You had better hope your brother's sword proves sharper than his pen." He hisses.

Barely within your vision, you see Edmund's face spring up in a tiny smile.

You walk up to Edmund and stand besides him, taking the tightly rolled scroll from him. "You better hope your sword is sharper than your tongue."

The man in front of you hesitates as the two of you turn to leave, then calls, "A little bit of _advice_ for you, _King_ Edmund."

The boy next to you turns back. "Yeah?"

"Stay away from Telmarine princesses." His eyes are fixed on you. "They may prove to be bigger trouble than you think."

Edmund pointedly ignores him and ducks out of the tent. "I can't believe you're related." He makes a face.

"I know." You sigh. "He's probably adopted."


	12. Chapter 12

"Destier has always served me well. You are in good hands." Caspian patted the horse. You grinned, knowing full well that what he said was right- Destier had never failed the two of you before, and you were sure he wouldn't fail Lucy and Susan.

"Or hooves." Susan added.

Caspian smiled, and looked up at Susan. You and Lucy caught each other's eyes, and you mimed a kissy face. Lucy laughed, quickly disguising it as a cough, and feigned a I-love-you face.

"Good luck." He finally said.

"Thanks."

You and Lucy's smiles got wider.

"Maybe it is time you had this back." Caspian pulled out a horn- Susan's horn, and offered it to her, but she shook her head.

The two of them were so wrapped up in each other they didn't notice you shaking your head exaggeratedly, puckering your lips for a kiss and closing your eyes. Lucy giggled.

"Why don't you hold onto it? You might need to call me again." Susan said with a flirting tone, and the horse galloped away. You catch sight of Caspian's wistful look.

You turned to Caspian and smiled like he had, the lovestruck expression quite exaggerated but still so like what he had made in front of Susan.

"Oh, shut up." Your brother groaned, turning away.

"Hey, gorgeous!"

It was Caspian's turn to look at you.

"Shut up." You pouted.

"I didn't say anything."

You turned back to the door as you caught sight of Edmund, dressed in armor as he sought you out. "It's about to start."

"You have _horrible_ timing, do you know, Lover boy?" You shot a glare at your brother, who was quite busy making kissy faces.

"What did I do?" He complained, and the two of you started walking out.

You ignored your brother's knowing smile and turned to him. "Your greaves, Edmund, _again._ "

As you knelt down quickly to adjust them, he frowned. "Why do I always do them wrong?"

The two of you, still bickering uselessly, reached the entrance. Peter was waiting for the two of you, quite impatiently.

"What took you so long?"

You waved your finger. "Edmund still holds possession of your sword." Gesturing to him.

Edmund agreed. "We still have power to stab you with your own sword, remember?"

He glanced at Edmund, then you, horrified.

"I'm jesting, Peter. King Edmund the Just wouldn't do something like that." The door to Aslan's how flipped open and the three of you walked out, shoulder to shoulder. "I'm merely trying to allow you to relax." Pointing out. "Your shoulders are too tense."

"She's right." Edmund muttered. "Relax, Pete. He's...what, twice your age?"

"Aren't we thirteen centuries old?"

"I meant physically."

The crowd screamed and you winced slightly. Although you were trying to play this off cool, you were incredibly nervous- what if Peter died? What if this failed? What if-

Seeing your worried expression, Edmund bumped your shoulder slightly and gave you a grin. You smiled back, shakily.

You heard Miraz talking, over the cheering. "If it should appear to be going poorly…" He gestured to the crossbow in Glozelle's hands.

Glozelle glanced down, then nodded. "Understood, my lord."

Giving them a suspicious look, you whispered into Edmund's ear, "They're planning to cheat, I think."

Edmund's face hardened and he nodded, tilting the sword towards Peter. He pulled it out of its scabbard and brandished it, the sunlight making the polished blade gleam wickedly.

The two of them began to circle each other.

"There is still time to surrender." Your uncle grunted.

"Well, feel free." Peter responded.

"How many more must die for the throne?"

"Just one." With that comment, the High King flipped down his visor with one hand and charged, the two men clashing.

The two armies cheered and your fingernails dug into your palms. You fought before, yes, but that didn't mean you had to like violence. Especially with that brother of yours, always fighting armies and going off to war. You fought because you wanted to help.

You saw Miraz knocking off Peter's helmet, then his coif. You bit your lip and grabbed onto the nearest thing- which just so happened to be Edmund. He saw your pale face and concerned, looked towards you, but you just shook your head.

Miraz howled in pain as Peter swung his sword at his thigh, and you saw him glance at Glozelle. You took it as the sign to shoot Peter, but the general didn't act.

You saw Miraz trip Peter and raise his foot towards Peter's shield arm, laying vulnerably on the ground.

As fast as you could, you turned away and buried your face in Edmund's chest, hearing the  _crack_ of Peter's arm and the yell of pain from the boy. Edmund threaded his hand through your hair and stroked your hair.

"Does his highness need a respite?" Miraz exclaimed bitterly. Your hands clutched a fistful of Edmund's red shirt, the one he wore on top of his armor, and hope to dear Aslan Miraz says yes.

"Five minutes?"

"Three." Came the answer, and you breathed in relief as you let go of Edmund. His hand brushed your face gently. "You okay?"

"Just a bit..." Your eyebrows knitted together. "Feeling disgusted, I think?"

"-She got through with a little help." You heard Susan say, and turned to see Caspian next to her.

"A prince in shining armor." You said deliberately, and saw Susan blush. Caspian's cheeks turned a little pink and he glared at you.

Peter's eyes flickered to the How and he told his sibling, "Better get up there, just in case. I don't expect the Telmarines will keep their word."

She instead hugged him, met by a wince of pain.

"Sorry."

"It's alright."

"Take care." The archer told him, one last time, and headed towards Aslan's How.

Edmund nudged Peter. "Keep smiling."

He sighed, letting out a forced smile, and waved his sword. The Narnian Army cheered.

Trudging over to Edmund, the High King clutched his arm.

"I think it's dislocated."

The boy took the arm and started looking at it.

"What do you think happens back home if you die here?"

No reply.

"You know, you've always been there. I never really—" He let out a cry of pain as the other boy cracked it back into place.

"Save it for later."

The two men got back into the circle and you shuffled closer to Edmund, ready to turn away if needed. Edmund frowned even deeper at your pale face but didn't say anything, instead taking your hand and comfortingly rubbing it.

You closed your eyes and heard the clashing of swords, a few hits, a few clanging sounds, then-

Miraz shouted out in agony and you peeked your eyes open to catch your uncle clutching his thigh, where his wound was.

He dropped to one knee, letting go of his sword.

"Respite! Respite!" Miraz gasped.

Edmund called, "Now's no time for chivalry, Pete!"

You hated to say he was right.

Peter instead turns back, and when his back was turned, Miraz staggered up and charged.

"PETER!"

"Look out!"

The swordsman does just that, dodging just in time, and grabbed the sword, twisting it and stabbing it  _right into your uncle._

Miraz- Miraz, who had always seemed so smug and undefeated- Miraz, gasped and fell to his knees.

Peter hesitated.

"What's the matter, boy? Too cowardly to take a life?" He sneered.

Sore loser.

"It's not mine to take." The other said, and offered the sword to Caspian. He took it.

Miraz, now fully on his knees, proudly claimed, "Perhaps I was wrong. It seems you have the makings of a good Telmarine king after all."

He bowed his head.

Your brother, his face contorted in anger, raised the sword and cried out.

A shiver went through you and you turned, your grip on Edmund's hand tighter than ever-

and heard the  _thump_ of a sword. A clean one, not the bloody squirt of a extermination.

"Not one like you. Keep your life, but I am giving the Narnians back their kingdom." He snarled, and you turned back, breathing a sigh of relief. The sword was stuck on the patch of grass right in front of Miraz.

The Narnians cheered.

"My King." Sopespian helped Miraz up, but filled with euphoria, you turned to Edmund.

"We did it!"

"Yeah." He seemed strange. Different, somehow. "Finally."

"Thanks to you and your siblings, King Edmund the Just." You reached up and your lips gently touched his. Not a full kiss, not even a little one. You weren't sure your lips even touched, or if you imagined it. You didn't really mind.

A gasp behind you alerted you to something.

_Something's wrong._

Miraz lay on the ground, an arrow sticking out of him-

_Susan's arrow._

 


	13. Chapter 13

"TO ARMS, TELMAR, TO ARMS!" The general rides around, lifting his sword and shaking it. Next to him, he feels (Y/N) stiffen.

"Susan wouldn't do that..."

"They don't care." He realizes, bitterly. "They just want to wipe us out. That was their intention in the first place."

"Cavalry… charge!"

He lets go of her hand, his hand immediately feeling too cool, and draws his sword. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Caspian on horseback, riding back to the How.

Besides him, (Y/N) unsheathes her sword and swings it a few times. "Good luck, lover boy." She smirks. "I bet I can defeat more Telmarines than you."

He ignores how his heartbeat turns erratic when she calls him that nickname. "No way. You can't defeat me."

"Just because you're a guy doesn't mean you can beat me, lover boy."

"Good luck to you too." He salutes her. "You'll need it."

"ARCHERS TO THE READY!" He hears Susan shout, and tense, ready to charge.

"Seven, eight, nine… Get ready!" Peter signals to all of them. Edmund readies himself.

 

The ground shakes but he manages to keep balance. The girl next to him doesn't however, and grabs onto his shoulder.

"I'm starting to think you do that on purpose." He remarks with a smirk. She blushes, and he thinks about how adorable she looks when she does that.

"Susan's waiting for your signal." Peter says to (Y/N). "Now."

The girl raises her sword in the air, and fire bursts out from the end, hitting a catapult and setting it to flames.

"If it's a signal it might as well be useful." She shrugs.

Arrows fly over the Narnian army and hits the Telmarines that are clambering out of the newly formed pit.

"Try not to die, gorgeous."

"Come back to me in one piece and we'll see." She kisses him on the cheek. "That's one for good luck."

They charge.

The two armies clash together, and the fighting carries him away from (Y/N). He feels fear- not for himself, but for her, even though he knows full well that she's perfectly available for taking care of herself. He's never felt so  _concerned_ in his life.

Not even for himself.

He looks around frantically for her. She's battling two soldiers at once, and  _Aslan she looks beautiful._ Her onyx hair is pulled back in a braid to prevent it from flying around, and there's this determined look on her face as she fights both of them off. Her grace is admirable- she mentioned once that she used to study acrobatics, but he hadn't thought she was  _this_ good. As he watches, she twirls around and swings lightly, the sword in her hand cutting the soldier's head clean off.

Can a girl look beautiful while she's decapitating someone?

He shakes the thought out of his head as he ducks a soldier's swing and hacks his sword into the said man's leg. He screams in pain and Edmund knocks the helmet off his head, thrusting his sword skywards, under the man's chin.

He glances around for more enemies and sees her across the battlefield, in all her glory. A mischievous smirk adorns her lips and she blows a kiss at him with her free hand. His heart skips a beat and he winks back.

"Do you guys keep flirting while _fighting,_ for Aslan's sake?" Peter asks, and he just shakes his head. "You're jealous."

"Of her, maybe, you're at least  _nice_ to her."

"I'm not to you?"

They get separated.

 

He fights the seemingly endless stream of soldiers. He keeps his hopes up, tells himself that they're not going to last forever, but the truth is neither are they. And seeing now, they're not going to last very long.

He catches Peter's eye and they both agree on it.

"Back to the How!" Peter shouts. They take up the cry. "Back to the How!"

They need to retreat.

The Telmarine trebuchets launch rocks at the how. Debris from the How falls down and blocks the entrance. Rocks fall around the archers.

His heart falls even further.

He sees his sister fall and his lips tear apart, ready to cry out, but Trumpkin catches her and she swings to a level of debris. She slides down and joins the others.

Edmund looks around and sees that they're surrounded. He knows they're not going to make it, and that's a fact. They've lost.

The only hope they have is Lucy and Aslan.

 _And so we come to rely on the old lion, again,_ He thinks, a small smile upon his lips. He just hopes he'll come quickly- that would save more lives.

Edmund draws his sword. They all exchange glances. Then they charge, Peter leading the way.


	14. Chapter 14

The battle continues.

His heart drops ever so often, but he keeps fighting, because he  _has_ to keep fighting. If not for Narnia and his siblings, for (Y/N).

He swore to her he would get out alive.

He intends to keep the promise.

"Duck, Ed!" A voice hollers, and he does as the voice says. An arrow whizzes past where his head was, and he hears a soft  _ugh,_ followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

"Thanks." He finishes off the soldier and turns to see who rescued him- and is not surprised when he is met face-to-face with (Y/N) (L/N). "Gorgeous."

"You're quite welcome." Without glancing behind her, she shoots the crossbow over her shoulder. The soldier sneaking up on her falls with an  _oomph._

"Nice crossbow." He remarks.

"Thanks, I had to wrestle it from a dead body. I think I wiped off all the blood when I smacked it into the face of a soldier, but I'm not sure."

"Yup, it's clean." He checks for her briefly before disemboweling a Telmarian.

"I bet I killed more than you."

"No, I bet I killed more." He argues. "How many so far?"

"Ninety-six." She smirks.

"Well, one hundred and five." He replies with a bigger smirk. She pouts and stabs another soldier (which shouldn't be attractive but strangely is). "That makes ninety-seven. Still eight less than me."

"But I killed the catapult. That makes about ten soldiers."

"Still only two more though." He shrugs. " _And_ you've got an unfair advantage, so plus two for me."

"Tie." She stabs another soldier. "One hundred and six. Let's see who kills more from here."

"You're on."

A rumble shakes the ground and he sights the trees-  _moving._

"Oh, god." (Y/N)'s eyes are huge. "The trees are moving."

A rock flies past them and hits the tree with astounding force. They barely bend down.

As they watch, the tree jams its root in the ground and it grows, more and more until it reaches the catapult. There it smashes the machine into pieces.

"I love the trees." She smiles, still watching.

Edmund shares a look with Peter.

"For Aslan!"

They charge.

He hears the Telmarines' cry of retreat and puts up a burst of energy, running towards the army. Sopespian gallops further away, further until they reach the forest.

What he sees freezes him in his tracks.

Lucy's standing there, at the other end of the bridge, all alone. She's the only thing stopping the Telmarines from getting to the other side, yet they stop and skitter nervously.

She draws her dagger and smiles that troublesome smile- the one they always saw whenever the snarky side of her got out. Then, Aslan joins her.

He's bigger than he remembered, and his mane is lush and golden as ever.

"Aslan." He hears the girl next to him whisper in awe.

"CHARGE!" Sopespian raises his sword and gallops at full blast towards the two on the end of the bridge.

The water beneath the bridge starts behaving strangely and Aslan just gives a knowing smile as some of the soldiers start to rush back towards the other end.

Then it shoots up and forms a- _the_ river god. The river-god peers at the soldiers before ducking down and hefting up the bridge.

Sopespian stands alone on the bridge in the river god’s hands, the horse skittering nervously. Edmund sees the river god peer at him.

The man swings his sword and the river god dissolves, water crashing down and sweeping Sopespian and his horse down.

"It's really over now." (Y/N)'s face is lightened up in glee. "We're done. No more stupid uncles, no more Gazelles, no more Soap Sheen. We're done."

"Yes we are, gorgeous." He smiles.

Peter smacks Edmund on his way to cross the river. "Stop _smiling_ like lovestruck idiots."

"We're not!" He and the girl next to him complains, in unison.

"Yeah, right." He motions to them. "Now hurry up!"

* * *

"Rise, kings and queens of Narnia."

Edmund, Susan, Lucy and Peter rise.

The two siblings- Caspian and (Y/N)- doesn't.

Aslan turns to them, and calls softly, "All of you."

"I do not think I am ready." The male responds, shakily.

The lion smiles gently, understanding. "It is for that very reason I know that you are."

He rises too. (Y/N) is the only one left on the ground, and she still does not get up.

Walking over to her, he breathes over her and when he looks up, Edmund sees her eyes as startling red- like orbs of fire.

"Rise, fire-bearer." He paws the ground and she does just that. "There is a reason you have received your powers, yes?"

"Y-yes." She nods.

Behind them, they hear music and turn. A small stretcher is carried by several mice, and other mice follows the stretcher- on which Reepicheep lies. He seems badly hurt, and Lucy hurriedly leans over him before letting a single drop fall into the mouse's mouth. He breathes and shakes his head a little, sitting up.

"Oh, thank you, Your Majesty..." He is about to continue when he notices the lion, and immediately snaps his attention to Aslan.

"Oh, hail Aslan! It is a great honor to be—" Reepicheep tries to bow but stumbles forwards, unable to regain balance.

Edmund sees that his tail is missing. He holds pity for the mouse- after all, he seemed quite proud of it.

"I am completely out of countenance. I must crave your indulgence for appearing in this unseemly fashion." He apologizes to Aslan, and immediately turns to Lucy sheepishly. "Perhaps a drop more?" Gesturing to Lucy's cordial.

"I don't think it does that." The small queen looks down at him apologetically.

"You can have a go."

Aslan intervenes, and comforts the knight, "It becomes you well, Small One."

"All the same, great king, I regret that I must withdraw. For a tail is the honor and glory of a mouse." Reepicheep holds out his sword. He thinks how much of a pity it is that a knight as great as Reepicheep must retire, because of one small thing such as a tail.

"Perhaps you think too much of your honor, friend."

Ashamed but caught off guard, Reepicheep begins to ramble."Well, it's not just the honor. It's also great for balance… and climbing… and grabbing things."

Aslan smiles, and the other mice do something so completely unexpected.

With a  _shink,_ they take their swords out and hold them upon their tales.

Edmund recognizes the mouse who speaks as the second in command. "May it please your high Majesty, we will not bear the shame of wearing an honor denied to our chief."

The lion in front of them laughs, and responds, "Not for your honor, but for the love of your people."

Reepicheep's tail grow steadily until it becomes as new as before again.

Oh, how wise Aslan is, giving him back his tail because of their love for each other!

"Oh, look! Thank you, thank you, my liege! I will treasure it always! From this day forward, it will serve as a great reminder of my huge humility." The mouse bows, again and again.

"Finally." (Y/N) sighs, and he realizes something- unlike before, her eyes are  _shifting._ Every time she blinks, it's not just one color- it's constantly changing and fluctuating between two colors- red and blue. Not _just_ red and blue, however- the red is fiery like the flames that smolder on her hands, and the blue is as clear as the ocean, seemingly creating waves. "Don't tell me..."

"Your eyes aren't fading." He whispers. "They're changing color."

"Aslan must have done something." A smile lingers on her lips. "I feel _different_ , somehow."

"You do?"

"Oh..." She laughs. "You clever old lion, Aslan."

Aslan turns to her. "I trust that you will use this well."

"Of course I will!" She runs forwards and hugs the lion tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"What?"

Her grin gets bigger, which he wouldn't have thought was possible. "He gave me another ability. It cancels the other one out. I... I can control it better now."

The others are watching with interest now.

"What?" He repeats.

Carefully, her fingers seem to dance as she move them along. A stream of water shoots out from the river and floats along the air.

Her multicolored eyes are wide with awe.

"Water for my fire."


	15. Chapter 15

The dinner table, as usual, is filled with chatter and laughter. That's how it's been since they've defeated Miraz.

It is the afternoon of the crowning ceremony. Everybody is happily eating and nobody has a single frown line on their faces- except her.

(Y/N), one of the two main people at the party and the  _High Queen_  of Narnia,is just...sitting there.

She's holding her drink in her hands, a frown darkening her face as she tinkers with the glass. A dark reddish-purple liquid he makes out to be wine is pooled within the drink.

Him, holding his own fill of wine, is about to approach her, when Caspian swoops in front of him. "We need to talk."

And by the expression on his face, he's pretty sure it's nothing good.

"Yeah?" Edmund takes another sip. He knows he's perfectly sober, he knows that much because he's been drunk before and he remembers the feeling of it. After the hangovers, he had learnt his lesson.

The man in front of him sighs. "About...you. And my sister."

He immediately sets down his glass and snaps to attention. "What about it?"

"Are you..." He hesitates, then decides to address him again. "Are you friends, or perhaps...something more?"

Straight onto the topic. Ah.

That complicated things.

He thinks about the question silently. He isn't sure either. Sure, they had kissed- on a cheek, a few times. Sure, they had held hands, but they did it all the time. They just... what were they? He knew he cared for her a lot then he cared for himself even, and he knew he had developed a crush on her- but crushes faded. Sort of like the one he had on Susan's friend for a while.

"I'm not sure either." He sighs.

Caspian looks at him for a short while. "She seems happy with you."

"I'm happy with her too." The words just pop out of his mouth. He glances down sharply at the glass then picks it up. "I really like her, I think."

Obviously the other didn't want the talk to end just quickly, because he taps him on his shoulder. "Just... just take good care of her."

He looks like he wants to say more.

They hold gazes for a moment, then it breaks off and Edmund pointedly heads toward (Y/N). Her multicolor eyes are quite hard to get used to, and he finds himself startled once more as he approaches her.

* * *

You're staring into your cup when he approaches you.

A small circlet of gold is upon your brow, and you notice that you've grown used to the slight weight. Oh, well. That's one less thing to worry about.

The coronation has you thinking about things. Things like the kings and queens of old. Since you and Caspian are crowned, what do they do? Do they remain as honored guests?

Will they leave?

"Hey." You glance up from the swirling liquid in your glass and smile, rather halfheartedly. Edmund is standing there, dressed quite handsomely. For Aslan's sake, even his  _hair_ is neat.

Your heart skips a beat when he takes a seat next to you. "Hey, Lover Boy."

First the nickname started out as a joke, something to leave him unsettled- but it's not now. You find a sweet taste in your mouth after you say it, and you say it almost  _endearingly_ \- like you mean it.

It's frankly ridiculous, confusing and euphoric at the same time.

"What is the new queen of Narnia doing all alone?" He grins, that one flick of the lips that leaves you warm, and you laugh.

"Queen are often alone, King Edmund the Just." You use his title in a teasing manner. His grin widens.

"Indeed, Queen (Y/N) the Brave."

"The _brave?_ Pfft." You know he's reflecting back to the coronation, when you were named with a title. Centaurs and old Narnians, apparently, were very fond of titles. You could see that. "Even Caspian is braver than me. Psh, one time I stayed on that tree outside the castle for fifteen hours straight because I climbed up once and a swarm of ants wouldn't get down from under it!"

He laughs and his fingers dig into your thigh. "You feel that? That's the feeling of ants crawling up. Soon they'll reach your brain."

You shriek (thankfully no one notices, it would have been certain death for you) and cover your mouth immediately. "Go away!" You swat him. Your thigh feels warm under your dress and you feel heat flutter into your cheeks at the contact.

"Just remembered." Edmund frowns. "By the way, Caspian wants all of us at that tree outside the castle tomorrow. He said something about Aslan."

Your laughter quickly fades and you glance into your cup once more.

"Oh."

You can feel his eyes examining you, but you don't really care. It feels devastating, whatever this is you're feeling. "Are you okay?"

"Just a little woozy." You lie between your teeth. "Can you escort me back?"

He responds immediately.

"Sure." He stands up and holds his arm out like a gentleman. You take it and get up from your seat, heading towards the doors.

The trip to your room is filled with silence and occasional outbursts of talking. You don't really feel like talking at all.

It bothers you so much, nagging at the back of your mind every time you look at Edmund's face. But you can't ask it. Asking it makes it reality, something tangible. Something that can actually happen.

You arrive in front of your door, where your room lies within, and your eyes flicker to Edmund once more. You feel something strange when you're staring at his face.

_It's probably nothing._

His eyes meet yours, and you lock eyes for a moment. That's enough to trigger it, though.

You burst out crying, the tears running down your face and your frame shaking violently as every sob wracks your body. You cry like there's no tomorrow- like you've got no hope.

You internally thank Aslan there's no makeup, or you would've ruined your face once and for all,  _especially_ in front of Edmund.

The tears run down your face and the deserted corridors carry the echos of your sobs around. You feel so  _bad._

"(Y/N)." His voice is soft. "What's wrong?"

You hiccup between your sobs, wondering if you should tell him or not. Before you can decide, his finger curls under your chin and brings your face up gently, letting your eyes meet. Your shifting eyes meet his still ones.

"I'm... I'm afraid you'll leave, okay?!" You confess.

He seems surprised. "What?"

"I'm afraid you'll leave! You've always come when there's danger, and left when everything's peaceful. What if you leave again? What if Aslan's called you there tomorrow so that you can leave quietly? What if you don't come back in the span of a lifetime, like last time?" Your worries spill out of your lips and the tears fall without sobs now, running down your face.

He's silent for a moment, and you're afraid he's right.

"Hey, I don't know if I'm going to leave or not. But we've got to enjoy this while it still lasts, yeah?" His thumb comes to wipe a stray tear. "Smile for me, gorgeous."

You do just that- smile, through your teary eyes. Smile at him.

"You're still worried, aren't you." He sighs.

"Feel a lot better with you. I can't believe you're _this_ nice when a girl's crying." You mutters. Seeing as he's silent, you look up to him in surprise- to find him staring at you strangely. "What?"

" _Damn_ this." He slams you against the wall and his mouth meets yours hungrily. You can tell that he's been wanting to do this for a long time as his hands run over your body and finally lands on your waist, digging his fingernails into your clothed skin. You delve your hands into his fluffy hair and kiss him back desperately.

Now you know-  _this_ is what you've wanted,  _this_ is what you've been missing out on.

The kiss deepens and your tongues collide. You wrap your arms around his neck, tightly, and his hands are moving your hips up. Wrapping your legs around him, you arch your back against the stone wall as his hand goes a  _little_ lower than it should be. "Oh, _damn-_ Edmund-"

He staggers into your room and slams the door shut, your lips still locked. "I might not be there tomorrow." He breathes against your lips. "I want to be here now. With you. Aslan, (Y/N)-" he bends down as your back reaches your bed- "I _love_ you."

"And so do I." You smile against his lips. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Edmund Pevensie."

 


	16. Chapter 16

You fidget nervously as Caspian gives his speech. You personally have no idea why you were here, which is one of the reasons you're so nervous.

"Narnia belongs to the Narnians just as it does to man." He addresses the crowd. "Any Telmarnies who want to stay and live in peace are welcome to. And for any of you who wish, Aslan will return you to the home of our forefathers."

You gape, like much of the crowd does.  _Why didn't Aslan tell me?_

The crowd mumbles and a Telmarine Lord calls out, "It has been generations since we left Telmar."

Aslan shakes his head, his mane glittering in the sunlight. "We are not referring to Telmar. Your ancestors were sea-faring brigands, pirates run aground on an island. There they found a cave, a rare chasm that brought them here from their world, the same world as our kings and queens."

"Pirates." Edmund muses, next to you, and you hold in a laugh. "Arr."

Then his gaze lands on the Pevensies, and you tense.  _What if he's here to send them back too?_

"It is to that island I can return you. It is a good place for any who wish to make a new start.

There is a pause. No one speaks, and for a moment you think that maybe no one wants to go.

"I'll go. I will accept the offer." A man steps forwards. You glance at him and your eyes widen. It's Glozelle.

Prunaprismia, who had been nice to you in your days in the castle (or rather nicer than Miraz), steps up with her baby, another Telmarine lord following her. "So will we."

The three of them separate from the crowd and stand before Aslan. You can tell by the tense atmosphere everyone's waiting to see what will happen.

"Because you have spoken first, your future in that world will be good." The lion before them tells them, and breathes gently over them. Behind Caspian, the tree you've been climbing since childhood, the incredibly normal tree- splits, turns a few times, and forms an archway, enough for about two people to go shoulder by shoulder.

Without hesitation, the four of them- including the baby, of course- step into the opening and disappears.

Murmurs and gasps run out from the crowd and your eyes widen further.

"Like the wardrobe." Edmund murmurs. You don't know what he means and chooses to ignore the fear growing in your heart even further.

"How do we know he is not leading us to our deaths?!" A peasant shouts, and they take up the cry. "Yes, how do we know?!"

Sensing the crowd's disapproval, Reepicheep scampers up to Aslan. "Sire, if my example can be of any service, I will take eleven mice though with no delay."

Aslan ponders the mouse's suggestion, then with a drop of your heart- looks over at the Pevensies.

"We'll go."

Your heart drops. Your mouth is dry, so completely dry- you  _knew_ this would happen, you  _hoped it would not but why would they not allow ONE good thing for you-_

Edmund's voice breaks your thoughts. "We will?" He seems equally surprised and his eyes are filled with an unknown emotion as he looks at Peter, then at you.

"Come on. Our time's up." Peter orders. You stare at him disbelievingly.

_They're actually going to leave._

He walks over to Caspian and hands your brother his sword, lion-engraved hilt and all. "After all, we're not really needed here anymore."

_Yes you are...I need Edmund here. Please..._

You know it's irrational, but you find somewhere in your heart, anger for Peter.  _He_ doesn't know what it's like to have someone you love in another world, he has no attachments.

But then you turn to Caspian, and his expression is the same as yours. It's like looking in a mirror. Him and Susan...were more than you could have guessed.

"I will look after it until your return." He grips the sword tightly.

" I‟m afraid that's just it." Susan's eyes meet his, and you feel pity for them. You _know_ how it feels, how devastating it is and how the world crashes around you when you hear that. "We're not coming back."

A part of you had hoped that even if it was not in your lifetime, Edmund would still come back- apparently, that's not true.

Lucy and Edmund exclaim in unison, "We're not?"

He's talking to Susan and Peter, but his eyes are straight on you, and you just know that he's trying to suck up your image, trying to memorize everything of you before he leaves.

"You two are."

A hopeful glimmer in your heart returns, and your eyes scan over him, trying to preserve in your brain- until he comes back, maybe- how his lips pull upwards in a smirk when he says some snarky comment, what his voice sounds like when he calls you gorgeous, how he bumps your shoulder playfully.

"At least, I think he means you to." Peter looks at Aslan.

Lucy sounds terribly upset, even more so than you, maybe. "But why? Did they do something wrong?"

"Quite the opposite, dear one. But all things have their time. Your brother and sister have learned what they can from this world. Now it's time for them to live in their own."

Peter smiles softly and takes his sister's hand. "It's alright, Lu. It's not how I thought it would be, but it's alright. One day you'll see too. Come on."

They walk over to the Narnians waiting for them at the side. Frantically, Edmund turns to you.

"Oh, Aslan, (Y/N) I'm so sorry-"

"It was bound to happen." You nod towards him. "Just hope I don't wrinkle and die before you return, right?"

"Please..." His eyes are filled with pain and you see how much it affects  _him,_ too, not just you. He doesn't want to leave you. Clearly. "Don't say that, gorgeous. We're going to meet again. Someday."

"At least we had last night before that someday, yeah?" You halfheartedly smile. His cheeks turn slightly pink but he nods.

You try to swallow back your tears as he hugs you tightly.

Edmund's hand covers yours, and you hold his tightly- intending not to let go until the end. You see Susan turning away from Caspian, and feel a pang in your chest. Caspian gets _what_ it's like. At least someone does.

Then Susan turns back and kisses him. It's kind of weird, watching your brother getting kissed by your a-little-more-than-friend's sister- but it's okay nevertheless. You understand.

The kiss ends and they fall into each other's arms, hugging.

"I'm sure when I'm older I'll understand." Lucy quotes Peter's words.

Edmund makes a face. "I'm older and don't think I want to understand."

The pain is  _killing you._

You grab onto Edmund's shoulders, and in front of  _everyone-_ kisses him.

He responds almost immediately, his hands coming to cup your face, and his thumbs brush your skin tenderly. His hands are warm against your skin and you just kiss him, not rough and wanting like yesterday but soft, like a lover leaving for war. You suppose that's exactly what it is.

His mouth moves with yours in synchronization and his lips fit together onto yours perfectly. You pour your emotions into that kiss.

"Lover boy..." You murmur against him. "Promise me you'll come back."

"Swear on Aslan, gorgeous." He responds, his breath hot against you. "Anything for you."

You pull away and Aslan approaches you. "My dear. A gift for you."

Questioningly, you turn directly to him. Unexpectedly, a sob comes out of you. "Oh, Aslan..."

"I give you this gift: from now on, your aging pace will match your lover's, until you meet, and forever on and on."

A small glow emits from your body and fades. "Th-thank you..." You run forwards and hug the lion. "I cannot express my gratitude for you."

"Well," He turns to the Pevensie children. "You must go, yes?"

Edmund joins the others, who are waiting for him. "Bye." You whisper.

"Bye." He kisses your hand, and walks away, into the portal-

Vanishing. Gone from your gaze, until you can meet him.

You don't let your tears fall until they're gone.


End file.
